


Step on the glass

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dark, Dark Tony Stark, Denial, Enemies With Benefits, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 21:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18019160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: “Why aren’t you scared of me?”It’s hard to fear the monster when he wants you to be afraid for your own good– and it’s even harder when you’ve started to turn into a monster yourself.





	Step on the glass

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks **SecretBane** for putting a song in my head (though… it was intended for a different fandom). And while this doesn’t quite exactly match the lyrics, I quite like the way it turned out. The title is from that same song– [_bury a friend_ by Billie Eilish.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcwK9uA1Fyc)  
>   
> This has been translated into Chinese by **UlricaSU**. You can find it on lofter [here.](http://ulricsu.lofter.com/post/204c7e21_12e5a3c05)  
>   
> 

Tony had been shoved against a hard surface plenty of times in the past, viciously and pleasurably and _perfectly_ caught between the press of Loki’s body and the sharp lines of whatever available space they had found. Usually, it involved teeth and tongues, biting passion and sweet violence that danced and strummed against their own desire. But this time, something was different. The fire in Loki’s eyes was of pure rage, not need, and the violence held no promise of anything more. Their bodies aligned as perfectly as always, but Loki’s arm across Tony’s chest was restraining, not bracing– and the knife at his throat was pressing hard enough that every movement, every word, every _breath_ was a painful tear.

“Hey, Lokes,” Tony said, tilting up his chin and offering a smile.

Loki snarled in response, leaning closer as if going for a kiss, though his teeth were bared and his lips far too twisted for anything so sweet.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” he hissed, the knife pressing deeper into Tony’s throat, the pain stinging now, a line of wet trickling over his collarbone.

And Tony smiled. “You won’t hurt me.”

“I already have!” Loki moved the hand not holding the knife to run a finger along the bare skin under the collar of Tony’s shirt, then lifted it to show how the tip was stained red.

“It’s a scratch,” Tony pointed out. “It’s nothing. I’ve seen you tear your enemies apart with your bare hands. If you want to scare me, Lokes, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.”

Loki’s expression burned, his eyes glowing green. His face was so contorted it would have had seasoned SHIELD agents quivering, blistering with the wrath of an old god grown strong on the blood of sacrifice. The knife grew hot, hot enough to burn but not to seal a wound— yet it did not move. The horror was nothing but a mask, and Tony saw straight through it.

“You won’t hurt me,” he said again.

“I _already have,”_ Loki echoed. “What would you know?” His voice was still harsh, and while his mask remained in place, Tony saw the way his expression broke underneath. It wasn’t a shattering of sanity or control, as any scared victim might have believed– it was an acceptance of Tony’s refusal to back down.

And then Tony frowned– because scratches and bruises were _not_ what Loki meant, they wouldn’t dismay him so– but Loki had never gone further. Not until now, when he was so clearly _trying_ to make Tony fear him.

“Why are you doing this?” Tony asked.

It was like a hand had reached inside and taken Loki’s emotion from him– all feeling torn from his face as his eyes emptied entirely to straight blankness. But Tony knew that despite his loss of comfort, Loki would not flee– whatever this was, it meant too much for that.

“You owe me the truth.”

“You are a mortal—”

“No,” Tony interrupted. “That’s not it, because I know you have ways around that. I know you. If that was the problem, you would shove a golden apple down my throat before you’d slit it. You don’t let go of what you want that easily.” He narrowed his eyes, staring Loki down. “So, go on. That’s strike one. How many times are you going to try to lie to me, Loki?”

“You’re in no position to—”

“Aren’t I?” Tony tilted his head again, not caring at the lance of sharp pain that sent burning across his neck, not worrying about how _close_ it was to cutting too deep. “Go on, then. If I hold nothing over you right now– go ahead and _kill me_ , Loki. We both know you could.”

Loki’s hand was trembling– Tony could feel it, the knife shuddering against his pulse. It would only take a single spasm and the blade would slice straight through, cutting Tony’s thread of fate as surely as if Loki had meant to wield the shears in the first place.

“What is it?” Tony goaded. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone _soft_ , after all your assurances that I am _nothing_ to you.”

“You’re not nothing, you’re worse than that. You’re an _Avenger_ ,” Loki hissed. “You will pick them over me—”

“Will I?” Tony asked, arching a brow, his lips twisting in annoyance. “Shall we test that?”

Loki had never liked it when Tony initiated softer touches, but he’d never minded the violence– and he allowed it when Tony finally shoved the knife away.

“Go and get them, Loki,” Tony said. “Bring them here, and see which side I choose.” It was nothing to press away from the wall, to press _closer_ to Loki and turn up his chin so their lips were nothing but a hairsbreadth apart. Tony could feel them brush with the lightest, not really there touches as he spoke. “If it’s you or them, Loki, there is no choice– and you _know that._ ” Tony let their lips fall apart as he shoved at Loki’s chest, knowing it would have no affect without the suit but wanting to get his point across regardless. “ _You know that_ , but you’re trying to push me away. And it _won’t work_.”

And Loki… looked _pleased_ , his blank nothingness giving way to something a little more desirable. Strangely, though, it was tinged with guilt, which was both unusual for Loki and completely and utterly… boring.

“You’re not the same as you were,” Loki whispered. “I’ve ruined you.”

“No, I’m not the same,” Tony agreed. “But that’s _good_ , because now I’m _yours._ You made me this way, and I know you meant to do it. So _don’t go soft on me now_.”

“How…” Loki stared, his guilt melting to curiosity and intrigue. Tony smiled. _Better._ “Why do you care for me, when _all I have done_ is hurt you?”

“That’s why,” Tony said. He tried to lift his hand, tried to touch his fingers to Loki’s cheek, but his lover flinched away. “ _That’s_ why,” Tony said again.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Because I will not let you touch—”

“Because you thought that letting me touch you like that would help us fall in love with each other, and you cared too much to let either of us fall that far,” Tony said, knowing he was right without needing confirmation. “Because you _want_ me to be afraid of you, for my own good. But I _do_ love you, at least as much as I’m able, and you love me. We’re already here, Loki, but that doesn’t make us weak.”

The dark smirk that Tony _adored_ was already curling at the edges of Loki’s lips. “I do love you,” he said. “ _You_ , the way you are.”

“What is it, exactly, that you want from me?” Tony asked, matching his expression.

“Everything,” Loki breathed, and Tony’s heart jumped a beat like it never had with the knife at his throat. Not from fear– but _anticipation_. “What do you want from _me?”_

Tony smirked. “Why don’t you feed me that golden apple, Lokes?” he said, leaning in. “Then maybe you’ll find out.”

Their lips crashed together with the weight of the next thousand years, the violence and the passion colliding to form something that wasn’t love in a form that most would recognise, but a darker cousin, something biting and dangerous and addictive. Tony’s hands cupped Loki’s face, raked through Loki’s hair, clutched and scratched and _caressed_ , and Loki fell into it with a moan and a silent request for _more_.

Possession, desire, infatuation, _obsession–_ they were caught in each other, wrapped together and too lost to see the danger of the beautiful chaos they were heading towards. Because now that they had found each other, no one could pull them apart, and together, no one could destroy them.

No one, perhaps, save themselves.


End file.
